


Role Reversal

by SLq



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-21
Updated: 2016-04-21
Packaged: 2018-06-03 14:48:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6614806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLq/pseuds/SLq
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is the Chesapeake Ripper. Hannibal Lecter is his therapist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Role Reversal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emungere](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emungere/gifts).



> I just finished reading the "Ladders" Series. Your writing is absolutely perfect.

Hannibal is certain he had known.

There is a limit to what a mind can miss. Hannibal's, honed over decades in spotting and removing physical sickness, misses nothing. Not the nightmares dying the skin beneath lost blue eyes. Not the self-conscious slump of shoulders curved inward beneath coarse plaid, like wings folded in preparation for a plummeting dive. Never the stolen glimpses filled with longing that had Hannibal's own fingers tense with the need to stretch and grasp.

He must have known. He should have prepared.

Yet, here they are.

Will Graham smiles at Hannibal over the lump of Franklyn Froideveaux's body on Hannibal's floor. His posture is perfect, pulled up in a military straightness that has the muscles of his chest and arms filling a green sweater Hannibal remembers once thinking too large for Will. He had even wondered, in a carefully clinical sort of way, whether the sweater had originally belonged to someone else. A past lover, perhaps.

Hannibal thinks he had been half-right. The Chesapeake Ripper is certainly not a ghost of Will's past.

Will's hands twitch at his sides. Hannibal's eyes go to them. Large, confident hands that had snapped Franklyn's bloated neck the same way a mongoose would chew through a snake's skull. Quick, certain of the natural rightness of their actions. Hannibal chances a look at Will's face. The Chesapeake Ripper gazes back, utterly content with his crown of feathers and blood.

Hannibal's breath stutters in his throat.

"Not quite the teacup," Will says and lunges for Tobias Budge, an effortless release of coiled energy. He slams into the other man with more force Hannibal would have thought Will Graham capable of exhorting but an hour ago. Budge's head cracks against the far wall. A painting falls from a shelf. Its frame breaks at the lower-left corner, the sound like a gunshot.

"I will carve you a new one out of his bones," Will promises.

Budge smashes his forehead against Will's. Will takes it, laughs, swings back and flattens Budge's nose. Blood and cartilage spills lushly between their struggling bodies. Budge howls and drives a fist in Will's stomach with enough force to push him off. Will staggers, only a step. Budge knives away from the wall. A silver thread glints between the shaky spread of his hands.

Hannibal is locked in a room with two killers and a corpse.

Hannibal sinks back against his desk. Will's mouth is stained red. Drops of it slide over his lips, like currants. Will licks them away and a blade flicks into existence in his hand.

Hannibal's throat trembles around a sigh. The sound draws Will's eyes to him. A terrible hunger burns within them.

Hannibal presses his lips closed and looks away - sees Budge coming toward him too late to do more than drop sharply backward, spine pressing flat against the hard surface of his desk. A silver wire curls in the empty space where Hannibal's throat had just been.

The howl Will lets out is inhuman.

Denied his hostage, Budge turns sharply - so terribly fast, a snapping serpent - to face a more immediate threat. Will is advancing quickly but Budge is quicker. He might escape, might sink his silver teeth into Will's flesh.

Hannibal spreads his legs and wraps them around Budge's hips, ankles locking at the man's knees.

Budge staggers forward.

Will bowls into him. The knife he holds slides in soundlessly, just below Budge's right ear. Budge gurgles as he drowns in his own blood.

Will's eyes lock on Hannibal over Budge's shoulder.

The knife tears the man open from ear to ear. A burst of warm, thick fluid stains Will's sweater brown and slicks Hannibal's pants to his skin. The whole thing lasts but seconds.

Will's hand remains on the knife for several more. Blue eyes cover Hannibal's face, his neck, the painful stretch of his body over the desk. The rest of Will is terribly still.

Hannibal slowly raises a nerveless hand. He lets it hang in the space between them, palm up. Will's eyes fall on it. Hannibal swallows. He does not allow himself to look at Budge or the knife still in his throat. Does not allow himself to think about cold steel parting his own skin.

Oh, but how gorgeous Will would look wearing Hannibal's blood.

Hannibal lets out a single whine - a shameful, low, needy sound.

Will's eyes snap up.

The Chesapeake Ripper smiles.

Will releases Budge's body. The corpse slumps, bending at the waist. Hannibal remembers his own hold on the man with some delay. He lets his feet fall flat against the floor; Budge topples to the right and out of Hannibal's rather limited line of sight.

Will steps between the spread of Hannibal's legs. The inside of Hannibal's thighs brush Will's hips. Hannibal tries to push up, elbows digging into the desk. Will places a hand at the center of Hannibal's chest and bears down with his entire weight.

Hannibal collapses with a grunt.

Will leans over him. Light paints the ends of his hair gold. His face is in shadow but for the bright, liquid glow of his eyes.

Hannibal's heart lurches in his chest. Several layers of fat and muscle and bone above it, Will's hand twitches.

"I warned you that you won't like me when I am psychoanalyzed."

Will's grin edges the words. Hannibal swallows, throat dry. "You did." He wonders if Will's teeth are slick with blood.

"So," Will pushes a little closer. Hannibal wants to shrink back, but there is no more desk left. He settles for squeezing his thighs around Will's hips, keeping him in place. Will's free hand grips high up Hannibal's leg. "How does it feel? Catching the Chesapeake Ripper."

Hannibal tries to think. Budge's blood has grown cold, stiffening the pants of his suit. Hannibal feels every drop of it. "I believe it is rather the other way around." A dull roar starts at the back of his mind, the sound of an animal long chained glimpsing sight of freedom. "How do you feel, Will?"

Will laughs. "Yeah, really not the time for therapy, Doctor Lecter."

"Hannibal," Hannibal says.

Will remains quiet for half a heartbeat. "Hannibal." The name sounds different on his lips.

Hannibal wets his own mouth. "How do you feel, Will?" he repeats.

"Happy," Will replies, immediate and unselfconscious. "Warm. Like I've won something, only I don't know what it is."

The roar is deafening. Hannibal speaks over it, barely able to hear himself. "Do you not?"

Will is a still mass of gilded shadows. Then he curves over Hannibal, body a perfect arch, and presses his mouth to Hannibal's ear.

"Show me," the Chesapeake Ripper growls.

Hannibal lifts his hips up and presses against Will. Will's groan scorches Hannibal's neck.

"Fuck," Will growls. "Fuck, you're hard. You are so fucking hard. It's for me, isn't it?" His hand scours down Hannibal's front to palm over his cock, hot and large and perfect. Hannibal thrusts up into it and moans, the sound so low it is almost a snarl. "Me too," Will bites into Hannibal's throat. "Couldn't help it. Can never help it with you, I look at you and I want to mess you up, I want - fuck!" Will's hand drops away, to the edge of the desk. It affords him leverage to press forward, dick heavy between his legs. Hannibal spreads his legs wider and pulls him closer, hips lifting in time with Will's thrusts.

"What- what do you want, Will?" Will's teeth dig deep in the soft hollow between Hannibal's neck and shoulder. Hannibal presses closer, drunk on exquisite pain. "Will. What do you want?" Even with his mind half-gone he will not be deterred.

"What, oh," Will sucks at Hannibal's neck, his chin - bites at his bottom lip. A handful of moments are lost to trading languorous kisses, more tongues and teeth than lips. "What will you give me?"

Hannibal does not have to think about it. "Everything," he says and Will groans like he's been shot, like he's come, like the world's ending, "The world. Everything."

"You," Will growls and grabs Hannibal's face with both hands, hands that had murdered two men tonight and many, many more before. "I want you. I want to fuck you. I want to own you. I want you in me, _always_. I want you to want the same from me."

Hannibal keeps expecting to see madness grin behind Will's eyes.

He cannot remember ever seeing Will look saner.

"I thought of licking his blood off your lips," Hannibal says. That brief, lush fantasy is the only thing he can think to offer in the face of Will's naked desperation. "I wanted it gone. I wanted to paint you with mine."

Will stares at him in speechless wonder. Hope clings to every line in his face, drips through the spread of his fingers over Hannibal's cheeks.

" _Hannibal._ "

The word breaks the calm between them. Will wrenches Hannibal's head up and descends upon him like a starved thing, wild and glorious with it. They come together violently, hips grinding in a desperate, uneven rhythm that leaves them tender and bruised and too close to peaking. Will bites through Hannibal's bottom lip, Hannibal leaves slashes of torn skin down Will's back. Blood tears and mingles between them and when it is finally over, they groan with the hurt of too much pleasure in each other's mouths.

A quiet lassitude falls upon them, after. " _Le petit amour_ ," Hannibal murmurs in the crown of Will's hair.

Will snorts, fingers painting red diamonds against Hannibal's ruined shirt. "There was nothing _petit_ about it from where I was standing."

"Crude," Hannibal complains. His torn lip stings when he smiles, so he smiles wider.

Will looks up. His eyes had always been like this, Hannibal realizes - deep wells filled with secrets and untold promises. Hannibal had simply never bothered to look.

"Are we really doing this?" Will asks. Hannibal arches an eyebrow.

"I believe we already did it."

Will's smile is small and startled. "Now who's being crude?" The smile fades. Hannibal feels as if he could carve a man hollow to get it back. "Seriously. Do you even know what you're promising me? What you're getting into? I've killed a lot of people, Hannibal. More than Jack knows. More than anyone would want to know, with the potential exception of Freddy Lounds."

"Why have you not killed her yet?" Hannibal asks. Will stares at him, mouth slightly parted in shock. Hannibal bends his head and presses a soft kiss against it, swiping his tongue over Will's soft lips. He tastes Will's smile. It makes him feel like a god.

"Damn. Guess still waters do run deep." Will ducks his head, shy in the face of such gentle attention. Hannibal is relieved to find Will had not affected the entirety of his personality. Exaggerated certain aspects perhaps, but the Chesapeake Ripper is still very much Will Graham.

The silence is comfortable. The desk is not. Hannibal regretfully pushes up, careful to keep Will supported against his chest. With both adrenaline and endorphins fading fast from his bloodstream, Will is certain to be in quite a bit of pain very soon. Indeed, Will winces as his stomach compresses. Hannibal's lips thin. He wishes Budge was not yet beyond the point of hurt.

"Let me look at you."

Will shakes his head. Tousled brown curls brush against Hannibal's lips. "No time. Have to get rid of the bodies, clean this place up. Did anyone know Franklyn was coming over today?"

"No. He came in with Budge."

"And since Mr. Psycho-strings over here was planning on gutting the both of you, I'm guessing no one knew either of them would be here." Will's grin is a dark, jagged thing. "I love when they fuck themselves up the ass."

Hannibal refrains from correcting Will's crassness. Mostly, because he is too busy trying not to smile indulgently. "What would the FBI think when they find the bodies?"

Blue eyes lock on Hannibal, clear and calm like a midwinter sky.

"There won't be any bodies to find," the Chesapeake Ripper says.

Hannibal remembers a shed in Will's backyard. Remembers saws, and hunting knives - many and sharp despite the fact that Will prefers fishing.

Hannibal exhales.

"Alright."

"Is it?" Will presses closer. His fingers lift to trail over the bites he had left in Hannibal's neck - a crescent necklace of bruised skin.

Hannibal's shoulders lift. "Honestly, I do not believe myself capable of letting you go. Not even if you serve me my own heart in a poorly-prepared stew."

Will blinks. "I am not sure whether to be incredibly happy or insulted."

Hannibal kisses his temple. "I am happy."

Will blushes up to his ears. The blood speckling his chin and cheeks does not deter from the shy, content look of him in the slightest. "Well. Then I guess so am I. For the record, I wouldn't feed you your heart. I'm happy with where it is right now."

"I do not think you would hurt me, Will."

"Just sayin'." Will burrows out of Hannibal's arms to examine the sprawl of Budge's body. Hannibal is hard-pressed not to pull him back. "Also, I'm not eating them, if that's what you are thinking."

"Someone is," Hannibal says, confused for all of a moment before understanding comes. "Ah. The dogs."

Will shrugs. "They don't complain about my _poorly-prepared_ heart stew. I brought plastic bags. Here, lift his legs."

Hannibal obediently goes over and picks Tobias Budge by the legs."You are not afraid they will develop a taste for it?"

"They wouldn't hurt me. I don't care what they do to anyone else. Well, almost anyone." Will winces with the strain on his injuries. They manage to drag the body to where Will had left his supplies. Including, apparently, a power saw tucked in a large gym bag. Hannibal stares at it for a long moment.

"Still not too late to run. Or to let me run," Will says, eyes carefully away.

Hannibal shakes his head. "It was too late the day we met."

Will ducks his head. The tips of his ears are pink. "Alright. Well, then. Take a seat. Or go somewhere else. This might take a while and it won't be pretty."

Hannibal moves closer and presses a soft, slow kiss to the naked arch of Will's neck. "I am not leaving. I will keep saying it until you believe me."

Will's laughter is soft, but grateful. "That might take a while."

"We have forever."

Will lets his head drop back, against Hannibal's shoulder. "A day or an eternity."

"Just so." Hannibal's lips trace the soft beat of Will's heart up his throat. "Will. How did you know to come here? That I would need you?"

"I always know," Will says. "I just very, very rarely care."

Hannibal feels pleasure swell the center of his chest. "I am glad."

"Me too."

Will allows Hannibal one more kiss and then pushes away, making shooing gestures with his hands. "Sit somewhere so you're not in the way. You don't have to watch-"

"I will watch," Hannibal interrupts. Will swallows noisily, mouth spreading in a wild, breathless grin. Hannibal wants to have him again, between his legs, in him - anything and everything Will allows. Instead, he pulls one of his beautiful, leather-backed chairs over a blood soaked floor and takes a seat facing Will and his bounties.

Will spreads his hands and makes an exaggerated bow, bending low at the waist. "Gent and corpses, you are in for a very special treat." He throws a wink Hannibal's way from beneath long lashes and straightens.

The Chesapeake Ripper reaches for the saw.

Hannibal watches them both and wonders how long it would take him to surpass the Ripper's importance in Will's life. The joy of murder is beautiful on Will's face, the slick of red running down his naked arms to soak in the bunched sleeves of his sweater as transcendent as the most delicate of art. Still, Hannibal knows he will not be content to live with the Ripper's fingers over his lover's skin for long. Will, too, would be much happier without the FBI and Jack Crawford dragging dirt through his quiet world. Hannibal will win Will's complete devotion, for the good of them both.

For now, he is content to watch the world drown in red beneath Will's hands.

 

 

 

 


End file.
